The Plot - The Floofy Version
by Kayt
Summary: Sorry, everyone - fixed my dumb double post! Yeah - Kel finally gets off her butt and does something about Neal!
1. Default Chapter

A/N: The first two chapters are exactly the same as the ones in regular old "The Plot." After that, it's much more fun! O, and feel free to write me at vauntedone@space.com with comments, complaints and weirdness of any kind. See that little box down there at the bottom? FILL IT IN! Thanks!  
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If I have to listen to one more crumby love poem to some court idiot, I'm going  
to throw up. It would be bad enough if it were anyone else. Bo-ring! Not to  
mention stupid. No matter what Neal thinks, all of those ladies are way out of  
his league. And I, who am very in it, am downright sick of getting run through  
the wringer every time a new face shows up at court.  
In fact, I'm SO sick of it that it's time to try out the evil plot. I heard  
that the Lioness did something like this once, wandering around in "disguise."   
Only she had something to work with. I am pretty much instantly recognizable.   
I'm too tall, too strong and too wide to pass off as just another lady at court.   
That's the beauty of "the plan."  
I can't really take credit for the whole thing. After all, it was really  
Lalassa who put the idea in my mind in the first place. My mother had ordered a  
really nice dress for me as a sort of midwinter surprise, and Lalassa said it  
truly transformed me. How nice it would be if that were true! And then I  
realized that it could be...  
I have about a million sisters, cousins, nieces and the like. Nobody knows all  
of them, not even members of our family. I can explain the height and build by  
claiming relation. With the auburn wig that I bribed Oranie to buy for me, no  
one should suspect a thing.  
King Jonathan's holding a ball to celebrate the anniversary of his marriage to  
Queen Thayet. Normally I despise these things, so it was no surprise when I  
asked Sir Raoul if I could skip the gala to meet with family that would be in  
town. What was sort of odd was the fact that he let me go. Usually he likes to  
make me squirm through the things. Thank Mithros he changed his tune this time!  
It wasn't TOO hard to talk Oranie into covering for me in case Sir Raoul should  
ask after me. She was overjoyed to see her tomboy little sister making a play  
for a man – even a play this bizarre.  
The fact that I'm voluntarily going to a full-dress ball is weird enough. But  
that I'm going to be the belle of it? That's something straight out of a bad  
bard's song. Even so, I'm going to have Lalassa fix me up like a regular lady  
and more. The dress is something else, a deep blue with sparkles that look like  
the stars on a clear night. It looks even better with my new red hair shot  
through with the selfsame gems. I'm a little nervous about the neckline, but I  
suppose that's what will get me the attention I'm hoping for. The tight  
fitted-bodice that swells into a full skirt might help to slender me out a bit,  
too. Trust me, I need it. My own sisters say I'm built like a cow.  
It's awfully hard to sit still while my friend crops my already short hair  
enough that it won't interfere with the wig. That's the easiest part, I  
suppose. I grit my teeth, reminding myself that I am stone as Lalassa prepares  
to fit me with earbobs. I like the sparkly gems she found; they match  
everything else perfectly.  
Well, that's over. Now I just have to sit still and have my face and "hair"  
fussed with. It's awfully hard not to fidget as Lalassa applies those paints to  
my face with relish. The brushes tickle! I have to hold still while she coats  
my arms and collarbone, too, to cover the tan I've picked up in the practice  
yards. "That won't smudge off?"  
"It's the expensive stuff, witched not to." That makes me feel a little  
better, at least. Imagine my new image dripping off me in the middle of a  
dance!  
Maybe ladies don't have it all wrong, after all. There's a hint of a battle in  
preparation for a ball. Armed with all the proper decorations and a few  
smoldering looks, they're after the kill as much as any warrior.  
All right, so I'm just trying to make myself feel a little bit better about  
this ridiculousness. The Yamanis are right. Emotion IS weakness. Look what  
it's brought me to!  
After an eternity with a little bit added for good measure, she's done. "Just  
look at yourself," she beams, twirling me to face the mirror she'd used to  
secure my pseudo-hair. I can't believe how un-me-like I look. How beautiful I  
look. This pale, green-eyed redhead bears little resemblance to the plain-Jane  
I usually see staring back at me.  
"Now for the gown," the seamstress says with relish. I reluctantly part with  
my trusty tunic and breeches. "The breast band will have to go, too."  
"Huh?" I should've guessed it, but I wasn't quite ready for that one. I can  
feel the blush creeping up my face as I struggle out of the garment. "Very  
ladylike," she laughs as she pulls the whispery fabric up around my shoulders.   
"Now hold still while I stitch you in."  
"Stitch me in?! Whatever for?"  
"You'll get the best fit that way. And, with the mood you're in, I'm sure of  
your honor as well."  
"How could you even think that?" I'm furious now, and probably red as a beet.   
"That would ruin everything!"  
"Your heart's run away with your head. Maybe this'll help get it back." She  
grinned wickedly. "You should know I'm just teasing. This'll just help your  
gown hang better than if it were buttoned or laced."  
I'm not going to say a thing. I'm afraid angry words are going to pop out of  
my mouth, after all she's done for me. Instead, I just hold my arms up over my  
head as Lalassa whips tiny stitches, in her element.  
I'm almost too scared to look in the mirror. Looking down is terrifying  
enough. The top of my dress might just as well be absent entirely. But, it  
looks really, really… I look like I ought to be the subject of poetry, in my  
own humble opinion. SO what if it took hours of faking it to get me there?  
Lalassa opens the door and sticks her head around the corner. "All clear," she  
whispers. "If anyone sees you, look confused and ask for directions to the  
ballroom."  
I nod and give her a quick hug. "Thank you," I beam, forgiving her. I gather  
my skirts and my courage as she pushes me out the door and point my slipper-shod  
feet in the direction of the ballroom.  
  
  
  



	2. Default title

Does "Loreanne of Mindelan" sound too fakey? It doesn't ring right in my ears.   
Maybe it's because I know I'm really Kel, Keladry at best. At any rate, it's  
far too late to change it now. King Jonathan's allowing any noble who wishes it  
to come in announced, so here I am, standing nicely in line and looking nervous.   
I should probably be chattering with these people. That's what ladies do,  
right?  
"Excuse me, are you new at court?" A man that I've never seen flashes perfect  
teeth at me. Great. This is just great for my nerves.  
"I arrived this afternoon for the ball," I murmur, not meeting his eyes.  
"Allow me to introduce myself… Or perhaps that's up to the herald," he jokes  
as he heads out the door. Whoops, didn't catch his name. Darn.  
All right, this is just ridiculous. I've been standing here long enough to  
make myself thoroughly nervous. Maybe everybody else is, too. They certainly  
seem quiet. I'm rather glad that I don't know anybody in court. My disguise is  
seeming thinner and thinner every minute.  
Finally, I hear my name. I step out the door. It's probably a good thing that  
the light blinds me, although I certainly don't need any help to look like an  
idiot. I try to think of what Oranie would do in this situation and do it  
rather than look at the millions of people who are all staring straight at me.   
Yeah, right. There are so many people being announced that I'm sure everyone  
stopped paying attention long ago. Maybe he's looking, though. I hope so.  
I know I'm going to fall down the stairs. I can see it happening right now.   
And then my wig will fall off and everyone will laugh at me. My true idiocy  
revealed.  
Well, I made it to the bottom, at least. There's enough people here. What if  
I never find him, and I spend all evening wandering around in this stupid getup  
for nothing? What if I do find him and he recognizes me and gets a good laugh  
out of this? What if he doesn't recognize me but decides I look like a cow and  
doesn't think of "Loreanne" ever again?  
Goddess. I wish I could shut my brain off. Other ladies certainly seem to  
have that talent. I suppose I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, wandering  
around without saying a word to anybody. Maybe I'll try to look shy and  
maidenly. Heck, I AM shy. I don't know about the rest of it.  
Where are all of the squires? Don't tell my Lord Wyldon found a mission for  
them at the last minute and they're all off doing something useful while I  
wander around here! I hate this. I can feel people looking at me. I know  
they're not. What difference do I make to anyone here? But it seems as though  
every eye in the place is glued to the front of my gown. I miss my nice tunics  
that cover everything up to my neck.  
Oh, Mithros. There he is. I can hardly breathe, he looks so handsome. Who am  
I trying to trick? It's not like that's a new experience. What now?  
I hate the Tortallan court. Every time a new lady with the least bit of looks  
shows up and they circle the wagons. I must not be up to much. There's no ring  
around me. You know, this is really dumb. I must not look as good as I  
thought. I'd better go.  
I turn to leave. It's really a bit gratifying, actually. Maybe I did attract  
a ring. I was too busy striding out to look for Neal to notice, and most of the  
little court boys couldn't keep up. Great. I'll bask in the glory for a  
moment, and soon enough Neal will join the circle. Goddess knows I've been at  
enough balls to know where he'll drift.  
I have to admit, I've almost enjoyed dancing the night away with perfect  
strangers who mutter lovely things at me and seem quite smitten with my newfound  
charms. I suppose I've worked through my quota. I've danced with more court  
men than I've met in all of my years in the palace. It's time to give Neal a  
try.  
I brush past a few hopeful faces, ignoring their offers to take me for a spin  
around the dance floor. I try to look like I'm headed for the refreshments  
rather than making a bee-line for Neal. "Would my lady like something to  
drink?" he asks.  
Great. I'm blushing. Nice. "Yes, please."  
"Anything in specific?"  
I hate blood. I hate my face. I hate this dress. I hate everything. "I think  
I'll leave myself in your hands."  
Wow. I actually didn't sound too stupid. I plop – wait. I'm a lady. I don't  
plop. I alight. I alight on a chair someone has chivalrously vacated for me  
and fan myself weakly with one hand. When Neal shows up with an iced drink, I  
smile gratefully at him and sip at it while I try to engage him in conversation.   
Other males seem to be glaring at him. For the first time in my life, I  
understand why Oranie enjoys these things so much.  
"May I have this dance?" I get up from my chair and into Neal's arms. He's a  
better dancer now than he ever has been in etiquette class. Maybe it's just  
that I have the leisure to be drunk on the full force of his eyes – plus  
whatever was in that cup he brought me. I'm glad he seems to be as lost in my  
face as I usually am in his. Come to think of it, he might recognize my voice  
if I talk too much.  
Oh, no. He seems to be snapping out of it. "Are you related to Keladry of  
Mindelan? She is a good friend of mine."  
"Yes. We're very close." Great. I'm blushing again. I just want to smack  
myself in the head. Now THAT would go over well. I can feel the etiquette master's heart failing at the very thought.  
"She's been holding out on me." Neal smiled and I could feel myself melt.   
That boy has more charm than he's a right to.  
I'm blushing again. Maybe if I just look down and flutter my eyelashes a  
little… It works for my sisters.  
The music's stopped. I guess it's my turn. "You're a wonderful dancer. May I  
beg just one more song?"  
Lovely. That last sentence didn't even make sense. I'm sure I sound stupider  
than usual. Maybe that's in character.  
No one recognizes me. Might as well… As we whirl around the dance floor, I do  
a very unladylike thing. I step closer to him, close enough that I can feel his  
breath on my face. It's nice to see his eyes snap the way mine always do when  
he touches me by accident.  
It's hard to concentrate on anything but his face. Ummm. Perfect teeth,  
perfect eyes, perfect nose… And he's staring at me like he means it, like I'm  
the most wonderful thing he's ever seen. It's far too good to be true. The  
music fades out far too soon. I wish it'd keep on forever.  
Maybe not. "Would you like to go for a walk in the gardens?" I slip my hand  
into his and head in that general direction. The best thing about pretending to  
be someone else is that I can do things like that and never have them pinned on  
me. I know I'd never have the courage in real life. Which I will have to go  
back to in a few hours…  
I will NOT think too much! I refuse to spoil this by thinking about it. Instead, I'll enjoy every  
minute of our walk in the gardens. We chat about everything that's happening in  
the kingdom, and I let Neal talk about his training for a while mostly because I  
can look at him without really paying attention to what he's saying. It's nice  
that he's at least trying to carry on a real conversation with the mysterious  
new lady. I'm glad he's after intellect, somehow.  
I keep avoiding the dark corners. Much as I want Neal to kiss me, I want him  
to know what he's doing, first. If I can work up the courage to tell him the  
truth…  
I'm almost grateful for the bell that breaks up my little idyll in the gardens.   
"I'd best go. I don't want to keep my ride waiting."  
I turn to go, but he grabs my hand and brushes his lips against it. "Will I…   
Will you… Will I see you again?"  
"Ask Keladry. She'll know how to find me."  
Idiot. I can't BELIEVE I said that.  
  



	3. Default title

So, this is what it's like to be a goddess. That's my new status, at least according to one green-eyed poet. I have to admit that I feel like one. It's been blissful, sitting here all day listening to Neal's bad poetry that's for me, for once, pretending that I'll pick out the best one to give to "Loreanne." I'm quite sure no lady would be charmed by the strained rhymes. It's a good thing for Neal I'm not a lady.  
"Whaddayou think, Kel? "Your eyes are like sapphires..."  
"I thought you said her eyes were green." This is just too perfect. Mithros, thank you for the strategically placed holiday...  
"Yes, but 'emeralds' doesn't rhyme with anything." He looks at me, vexed, and blows some hair out of his eyes. I wonder if he knows how charming his stupid, sloppy hair is.  
"Have you ever considered just writing a regular old letter? You know, saying what you think without letting the fact that things don't rhyme right get in the way?" I grin. "She's a Mindelan. She'll appreciate the directness."  
"Kel, you have no romance in your soul." Oh, no?  
"Honestly. Send a poem if you have to, but send a letter. When was the last time I led you astray?" I'm evil. I can't help myself. This is WAY too much fun!  
"All right, have it your way."  
"Don't I always?" Innocent smile. He's cute when he glares. "Make it 'For Her Eyes Only.' I need to hit the practice courts."  
"You'll deliver this, right?" He looks at me pleadingly. Mmmm.  
"Sure thing. I'll send Lalasa."  
  
That's the third time I've dropped my glaive in a session. My mind just isn't on practice. So shoot me.  
I'm DYING to know the contents of that letter. I know I shouldn't but I rush through my pattern dances. I force myself to do a few of Eda Bell's press-ups, but my mind's in Neal's room. That letter's for me. Poor boy. He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into this time.  
I'm still vain enough to scrub up before I go to get it. There's no sense looking like a slob. When I knock on his door, Neal sticks his head out, looking back and forth quickly and shoving a roll of parchment into my hand. "Don't tell a soul!" he hisses.  
"Whyever not?" Neal's never been shy about his crushes before!  
"Because... Because... I just don't think I can take the teasing this time!" He sighs, and his eyes mist up. His mouth twists into a silly smile. "I think she's my soul mate."  
"As romantic as I find the wall..." I head back for my room as he glares at me.  
"Prosiac little thing! You have no idea what I'm going through!"  
Oh, don't I?  
  



	4. Default title

Ummm.... Whoops! Thanks, everybody, for letting me know I'm an idiot without rubbing it in... Although nothing suffered from the ommission, I'm sure the repetition was obnoxious...  
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"Lalasa, if I tell you what to write, will you put it down for me? I think he'll recognize my handwriting." After all, all of those nights in study group...  
"Certainly." She smiles at me fondly, as if to say, "Awww.... How cute."  
I suppress the urge to growl.   
"Dearest Nealan,  
"Meet me by the fountain at he seventh bell..."  
"Oh, Keladry! You'll not send that!"  
"Hmmm?" It sounds perfectly good to me!  
"That's no note for a lover!"  
I sigh. I'm no good at this sort of thing. "All right. Maybe you should write it."  
"Oh, no. This is something you need to do yourself." She pushes the ruined parchment at me. "Work it out on there, and I'll recopy it."  
It's a lot easier to nibble on the end of my pen than to write with it. Maybe Neal is right. Maybe I don't have any romance in my soul. If it's in there, it certainly doesn't want to come out onto the paper.  
I begin to doodle absently. When I look down, I see a sketch of his face. All of a sudden, something in me seems to snap and I know just what to write. "I think of you all the time. I always have, and I probably always will. Every moment I spend with you is perfect. I spend all the rest of them remembering what you looked like and said and thought. Please, meet me by the fountain at the seventh bell tomorrow. I don't know how I'll make it that long."  
I shove it at Lalasa. "Don't sign it, please." I smile at her, just a bit timidly. "I don't think I can manage a poem."  
Lalasa looks up from the parchment. Is that a tear in her eye? "Believe me, my lady, this will do."  
  



	5. Default title

I don't even notice what the cooks are putting on my tray as I practically run to our table. I look him right in the eyes. Goddess, those eyes... "Don't you dare hurt her! If she's just another Daine or Uline..."  
Neal's eyes go misty, like a cloud's crossing over them. I have to suppress a grin; that's probably the most poetic thought I've had in my whole life. "Kel, she's different. She's like no other. I..." Mithros! He's actually BLUSHING! "I've never felt this way before." He flicks his head at Merric, who's seating himself.   
I grin. "It's about time we had the day off!"  
  
I never knew it could be so hard to go to sleep. After all, I spent enough time in lectures about how to do it. But every time I close my eyes, I can see his face. Not that it helps to open them. How will I ever make it through the day tomorrow, knowing what's at the end of it? I certainly won't if I don't get to sleep, and soon...  
  
"Ouch!" I try to ignore the chuckles as a shake my hand to get rid of the pain. I just got rapped across the knuckles in staff practice like a clumsy first-year page. I suppose my mind was elsewhere. Even the sharp pain can't bring me all the way back down to earth. Lord Wyldon, however, can.  
"Such clumsiness in the field will mean death for yourself and others, Page Keladry. I suggest you try that drill again."  
I sigh, shifting my grip on the staff and try hard to keep my mind where it's supposed to be.  
  
"Kel?" I have the whole thing scripted in my head. I'll be sitting there at the fountain... "KELADRY!"  
I jerk my head up. "Sir?"  
Sir Myles shakes his head at me. "Wherever your head is, I'm sure it's nowhere near the Scanran War."  
I look down, shamefaced. I hate to disappoint Sir Myles. After all, he's the Lioness' father, not to mention my favorite teacher. "Repeat the question, sir?"  
It's only a few more bells 'till supper. I'll try to concentrate 'till then...  
  
I can't eat a bite. I swirl the vegetables on my plate with my fork, staring listlessly. "Mithros, Kel! What's wrong with you two?"  
I look up at Owen's concerned little pudge of a face. He's noticed that neither Neal or I have so much as brought a fork to our mouths. "I'm just..." I shake my head. "I still can't believe my performance in staff practice."  
"Hey, it happens to the best of us." Seaver grins at me, stuffing bread into his mouth. "Even you."  
"In other words, the best of us."  
"He speaks!" Roald grins disarmingly at Neal.  
"Oh, from time to time."  
Maybe dinner won't be such a trial, after all.  
  
"Quick!" I'm so excited I can barely stay in my chair as Lalasa brushes the paints onto me. For once, I'm not putting up a fight. After all, I won't have to wear them for long.  
It doesn't take nearly as long to secure my wig this time. I want it to come off easily...  
I throw a bulky cloak that Lalasa is sewing for someone or other over my regular clothes and wait impatiently for the coast to clear. I climb out my window and scramble towards the palace gardens and that fountain. I want to be there first...  
  
Great! He's not here yet! I have time to arrange myself just so. I've been thinking of nothing else all day.  
Leave it to Neal to be late to something like this. Every time a twig crackles or a leaf rustles I perk up. But it hasn't been him yet...  
There he is. Mmmmm. Wearing green, too. It makes his eyes even deeper than they already are. Mithros, but I've turned into a silly girl!  
He sees me and I can tell he's trying not to break into a run to get here faster. "Loreanne," he gasps, his whole face lighting up. I have to admit that mine's doing the same thing.  
"Neal." His name just drips off my tongue. Mmmm.  
He gently takes my hand and brings it to his lips. I close my eyes... but there isn't any contact. He's staring at the bruise on my knuckles. I'd forgotten all about it. He tilts his head to look at me more thoroughly. "Kel?" he says, wonderingly. This was definitely not in the script.  
So the strategy's shot. Time for some tactics. I pull my hand back and grab some water from the fountain, splashing Lalasa's concoctions from my face. Before he's got time to react, I yank the wig from my head and pull the cloak off. "This' why I wanted to meet you here. I wanted to tell you."  
He's just staring, like he's seen a ghost or something. Come to think of it, I'm sure the experience is similar. "Neal, please say something."  
Goddess. I'm such a moron. I can't even say something intelligent at a time like this where it could make all the difference.  
He's just staring. What if he hates me? What if he'll think this was all a jolly good joke and he'll forget about the whole thing? Mithros. I'm going to have to tell him the whole story.  
"I couldn't stand it any more. Every time some pretty lady glanced in your general direction, you'd write poems to her and dream of her and lose sleep over her. I..." Here we go. This is the point of no return. "I've loved you for years." There. I said it. Now if I can only finish up... "I thought, maybe if I was the right kind of girl... If I was pretty enough, ladylike enough, if my hair and face and clothes were just right, then..."  
"Mithros, Kel!" I'm too scared to look at him. I'm afraid his eyes will tell me something I don't want to know.  
"Does it make that much a difference, really? Here I am. I'm the same girl you danced with and talked with and suffered over. I'm just Loreanne with the truth being told." I swallow. "Maybe I'm better. I didn't just take a fancy to you one night at a party. I know you. And I know that I..."  
I trail off. He hasn't responded at all. I have to do it. I force myself to look him in the eye. He's looking back at me levelly. There's nothing to be read there. Unless I can put it there...  
I reach over and take his hand, never looking away. Was that the faintest hint of the snap I saw at that dance?  
What the heck. I've gambled everything I've got anyway. I'm scared three quarters of the way to death, but I lean over and kiss him right on the lips.   
Nothing, he's doing nothing at all... I pull my head back, trying to hold the tears back. I am stone. No, I'm not.  
I start to get up. His hand's there, putting a little bit of pressure on my arm. I look at him through my tears. I can't believe what I see...  
"Kel, why didn't you tell me?" His hands are in my hair. I can't gather my thoughts enough to reply. "Kel?"  
"I didn't think you'd ever take a second look at the Lump. I didn't want to ruin everything..."  
My blood runs hot and cold as he takes my hand and kisses it, bruise and all. "I think I've missed the goddess right under my nose." He smiles gently. "Maybe, right in front of my nose."  
He's leaning in. I send a silent prayer towards the Goddess. And the world goes away...  
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Whoever suffered through both versions, which one should I keep? I sort of like both... They aren't really as different as I'd hoped. Oh, well. Suggestions? Letters of pure hatred? Maybe *crosses fingers and smiles narcissistically* worshipful adoration? :~)  
  



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